


suicide hotline ↠ you've got the wrong number

by dearestwoojin



Category: Produce 101, Wanna One
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heavy - Freeform, Multi, Other, Sad, Suicide, fluff????, sad as fuc k, tragic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearestwoojin/pseuds/dearestwoojin
Summary: in which jihoon calls the suicide hotline but messes up the last digit. groggily responding, the other line breathes. "you've got the wrong number,"





	suicide hotline ↠ you've got the wrong number

 

who would have thought that the perfect brown-haired boy next door who's literally his university's pride and his best friends' hero would end up having to be transferred from hospitals to hospitals, doctors to doctors, and go through several appointments because his parents could... just... not accept the heart-shattering result.

 _glioblastoma multiforme_ , or _GBM_ , a devastating _brain cancer_ that typically results in death in the first 15 months after diagnosis.

most of the time, people would ask how much longer does one still get to live if diagnosed with this type of sickness but this boy was an exception, like his life being on the line did not matter at all, he worried more about the expenses.

his warm hand finds his mother's, squeezing it lightly, his cheekbones bear as he gives a reassuring smile although his tired eyes say otherwise. white illuminated from the four-walled room, the undeniable stench of medicine lingered on their skin and a fine man, who owned fox-like eyes, around his 20's with a stethoscope around his neck greeted them.  _dr. hwang,_ his name tag read. his eyes shifted from the boy to his mother, hesitating, he opened his mouth to speak. "we can let him undergo a surgery but it would be too... risky." he started. "if it's okay, can we talk privately?" the boy's mother cleared her throat, glancing to her son. "jihoon-ah, please wait outside." the young boy mindlessly nodded, leaving the room.

dark, bland colors surrounded his hazel eyes. haggard was not even the right word to describe what he looked like, and _sick_ was not even an appropriate term. jihoon settles on the bench just outside the neurologist's room, fumbling with his phone. thoughts began attacking him, now that he realizes what happened. he- no, everyone should have seen it coming; from the first time his head awfully ached, and the first time he had ever fainted... two years ago.

he wanted to say that he's sorry... that his brain's attacked with these cancer cells and that he's going to, inevitably, leave his parents and everyone who treasures him, soon. he wanted to say sorry for all the trouble he had given and will be giving to his parents. he wanted to say sorry for, just, everything.

from that day on, jihoon turned depressed. he would eat less, sleep more and lock himself in his room unless his chemotherapy and radiation treatment are up. he could not handle being outside, where the possibility of him losing consciousness and being rushed to the hospital, again, are higher. he shelled himself from any contact, even from his best of friends╾ jinyoung, daniel, guanlin and seongwu.

school was not even on the list anymore. he stopped. the last time he ever went to the grounds was when his parents needed to draw him out and of course, he needed to be there, bidding good bye to his classmates and receiving pity from everyone╾ he hated it, and he hated how daniel enveloped him into a tight hug, making him feel so vulnerable that he just wants someone to hold him like that again. but he can't.

"let him go through a surgery, it's the best option!" jihoon hears his father shout from downstairs. he brings his pillow to his head and covers his ears, in attempt to block himself from hearing his parents fighting. it hurt him, especially the fact that he's the sole reason why his parents are always spitting words at each others faces, and that he could not do anything about it. "are you out of your mind? our son could die!"

death.  _one letter, five words._ it's just a word one could stumble upon whilst scanning a thick, heavy dictionary. it's just a word that describes a loss, pain, mourning, darkness, nothingness... it's just a  _freaking_ word. why does it have to be real? why does it have to exist? and more importantly, why on a boy, who had done nothing wrong? jihoon wants to avoid that word, or anything that relates to it, not because he was afraid to die... but because people use it as an excuse to get out, of almost everything. as if death was just an escape, but it's not. the boy's heart grow angry, tired, and all together, mixed, upon these thoughts. he wants to leave this world, but if leaving it meant hurting everyone else, then he chooses not to because that's the type of person he is. he always puts everyone else before him. however, he's more than exhausted... he's confused. he's scared. he needs help... at this very exact moment when all he ever wants to do is put himself to rest.

with trembling hands and a tight chest, jihoon scrambles, reaching for his phone. his vision clouds with hot, painful tears, continuously running down his cheeks. he hates that he's reached the point where he would actually beg for someone to comfort him. he never wanted attention, but now that he fears his own self, he tries. frustrated, he wipes his tears away and proceeds to dial certain digits he could recall from the ads he had seen. he presses the gadget against his ears, breathing deeply.

there was a long, irritating, beep before the line completely goes silent, a cue for him to speak.  "h-hello, this is the suicide hotline right? pl-please answer quickly" a wave of desperation escapes from his quivering lips. "hello, c-can you hear me?" he whispers harshly. "please," shaky breaths echo throughout the room while jihoon begs for an answer.

much to his liking, the other line finally responds. a husky, sleepy voice interrupts and rings through the boy's ears.

"you've got the wrong number... i'm sorry" the other person drags. "a-ah... is that so? how embarrassing..." the boy breathes out, but before he could end the call, a soft chuckle resounds. "don't kill yourself... you can pour out every inch of problem you have to me." and somehow, jihoon trusts the stranger. he huffs, resting his head on the edge of his bed and parts his lips to speak.

from time to time, the person on the other line, with his  _still_ sleepy voice would say "mhm.." and it was... so... soothing and comforting to jihoon that he does not ever want to end the conversation. a genuine laugh, one that jihoon had never had ever since his sickness attacked him, bears out of the boy when the stranger comes up with a quick deal. "when you find out who i am, i'm gonna treat you with ice cream and so will you, when i find out yours. game?" 

"game!" jihoon enthusiastically responds. an involuntary smile spreads across his face when the stranger tells him good night, and that, he would  _definitely_ wait for jihoon's call as his number is now officially and exclusively for jihoon, a suicide hotline.


End file.
